


we will find a way through the dark.

by JustLikeTomo



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 01:01:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20648633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustLikeTomo/pseuds/JustLikeTomo
Summary: Louis has been ill for what is beginning to feel like foreveror an au where Louis is sad and meets Harry at group therapy... maybe together they can finally start to heal





	we will find a way through the dark.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is incredibly personal to me, so please be kind.
> 
> tw for depression and suicidal thoughts -- please be careful and look after yourselves.

Louis has been ill for what is beginning to feel like forever. It's almost easier for him, when he thinks about it, to imagine that he's always been this way. That way he won't have to admit to all the ways he's changed, to all the ways he's lost. Except, he hasn't always been this way. There's a clear Before and After, in the sense that Louis was a completely different fucking person before therapy appointments and weigh-ins and pills.

His mum used to call him sunshine... in fact, she still does sometimes, but it's always with a hint of sadness. Louis knows it's because all of that sunshine that used to live within him and shine out bright has dimmed irreparably. It hurts him every time she says it now -- not just because he knows that it drained out of him long ago, but because he mum still holds out hope that one day he's going to go back to the way he was -- he knows that's impossible now.

Bipolar disorder, unfortunately, is chronic, which means that it never goes away. It can be treated with therapy and medication, but it's always going to be a part of him, like a shadow that's tied to his foot, the most painful of companions. Coming to terms with it was actually a lot easier than he imagined, mostly because when he'd been diagnosed at sixteen with depression, it hadn't felt quite right... so, to be given a diagnosis that actually fit the way he felt was a relief to begin with, before the burden of it really set in. Now, he almost wishes he just had depression, as awful as that sounds (believe him, he knows he's a terrible person). At least that way, he could just concentrate on feeling happy or something. With bipolar disorder, it isn't that simple because every happy feeling and every happy thought has to be second-guessed. He has to ask himself: is this a normal amount of happiness, or is something wrong, and is it the start of the mania? The past seven years have been a constant stream of ups and downs and ups and downs that have grown more and more tiring as time has gone on until, most days now, Louis could scream from the unbearableness of it all.

It's not to say that he isn't coping. Louis got through his A-levels, got his degree, and now works a crappy part-time retail job at the shopping centre in Doncaster. Sure, he's still living at home -- he gets the feeling that his mum wants him to move out, not because she wants him gone, but because she wants him to want that independence for himself -- but pays rent and he has a car and he's... well, he's getting by. It's just... every now and then, he'll be laying in bed and he'll think, _I still don't want to be here, _or, _I'd give anything to die in my sleep tonight, _or just simply, _What is the point?_

It's that last one that really gets him because no matter what he does, no matter how hard he tries, he'll always just be going through the motions, living because he's afraid to end things and hurt his mum and sisters, surviving because that's all he has. It's no life. It's no life at all.

*

"We're going to increase your dosage of sertraline from 50mg to 100mg, okay, Louis?" Dr Thomas says.

Louis nods, pulling at a loose thread on the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

"And, I think it's best that I give you a sick note for work for a couple of weeks while we're waiting to see how the meds are effecting you."

Louis knows it's best. He's in no fit shape for work at the moment. It's still hard though because he feels like he's letting everyone down. You're only supposed to have a day or two off work sick a year maximum, but Louis has weeks off at a time every few months because, put simply, he just can't cope with it. It's despairing to think he can't even keep up with a part-time job in retail. It is what it is though, he supposes. He knows that people with bipolar disorder have an incredibly high unemployment rate, so he supposes he's just lucky he hasn't been fired yet. It still doesn't stop the way his heart aches in his chest at the look of sadness and disappointment that will be on his mum's face when he tells her that he's been signed off sick again. He knows she just wants him to be well and successful, but sometimes it's suffocating, knowing that no matter what he does, he'll always let her down. He's not even fully convinced it's the illness that does it. He's read online about people complaining about the mentally ill always blaming everything on their illnesses. Is that what he's doing? Maybe he really is a lazy piece of shit that can't cope because he's just that pathetic. Louis doesn't know. That doesn't feel right to him either, but saying that everything bad in his life is because he's bipolar just seems like a cop out.

"How'd it go, Lou?" Lottie asks when he gets home. She's watching _Keeping Up With The Kardashians_ on the television, but her attention falls fully onto Louis when he sits down next to her, tilts his head back, and sighs.

"Doubled my dosage of sertraline, signed me off work for a couple weeks," Louis says, shrugging. He can't look at her as he says it, keeps his eyes trained on the swirls in the ceiling.

"Hey, maybe it'll work this time," Lottie says, nudging his side.

Louis looks at her and returns her small smile. "Yeah, maybe, Lotts."

"You are still taking your pills, right? You haven't stopped them again this time?"

"Taking them every night," Louis says, looking over at the television, "but, I guess they're just not working."

Lottie takes Louis' hand in hers and as she begins to speak, he has the horrible feeling that he's going to cry in front of his little sister. "You're gonna get it right, Lou. Whether it takes a few weeks or months or years, you're gonna get better."

Louis squeezes her hand and nods. He doesn't believe her, not for a second, but he doesn't need her to know that. Being strong for his family is about the only thing he is good at.

"What's going on with the Kardashians today then?" he asks, smiling when Lottie bounces slightly and starts ranting about an argument that the family has been having on today's reruns. It's the best part of his day so far, and, watching the animated look on Lottie's face, he can't help but think, _If anyone has to be ill in this family, I'm glad it was me._

*

A few hours later, Louis is sat on the bus with shaking hands heading to the shopping centre to hand in his sick note. He had intended to drive, but Lottie took one look at his anxious form and told him it was safer to take the bus, removing the keys from his hands. He feels embarrassed, now, thinking of his little sister having to tell him he's not well enough to drive, for her to be looking after him when really it should be him looking after her. He's supposed to be her big brother, her protector -- not the other way around. 

He looks out the window with tears brimming in his eyes before he angrily brushes them away. He shouldn't be getting this anxious about just going into work to hand in his sick note. But -- what if this is finally the time they look at him, realise he isn't worth the hassle, and give him the sack? He knows it's not that simple, that in theory it's actually quite difficult to fire somebody who can't work for health reasons, but the fear is there all the same. He worries that everyone talks about him, that his colleagues gossip about what a waste of space he is, a liability. He still remembers the time when one of his managers found him having a breakdown in the staff room and the look of complete lack of understanding in her eyes. His colleagues have told him not to worry about her, that she just doesn't get it, but as he walks into the store with his sick note in his shaking hands, he thinks, _No one gets it._

"Hey, Louis!"

Louis flinches at the sound of his name being called, but smiles when he turns around to find Niall heading in his direction.

"You doing okay, mate?" Niall asks, concern etched across his face when he looks Louis up and down.

Louis doesn't need a mirror to know he looks like shit, but knowing that other people can tell something's up doesn't sit right. If a colleague can tell that he's not okay, then he's not trying hard enough, because that means his family will be able to tell too. He doesn't want to burden them anymore than he already does. He can't stand upsetting them. He can't stand it.

"Uh, yeah, I'm okay," Louis says quietly.

"You sure? Haven't seen you for a couple weeks."

"Uh, yeah, it's just, you know, mental health stuff," Louis says, wafting a hand around like it's no big deal, like he doesn't want to go outside and jump in front of the first car he sees.

"Is, um, James here? I need to give him something."

"Yeah, upstairs in the office. Come on, I'll walk you up."

Louis doesn't comment on the queue of customers that are waiting at the till and walks beside Niall up to the staff section. Niall pats his shoulder when they reach the store manager's office and says, "You've got my number, mate. Gimme a call or whatever if you need anything. I mean it, Louis."

Louis swallows thickly and gives his thanks. He can feel those traitorous tears brimming again, so he takes a deep breath and then knocks on the office door.

James opens the door and smiles widely at Louis, gesturing for him to come inside. "What can I do for you, Louis?" he asks after telling Louis to sit in the other chair.

"I, um, I've been signed off work by the doctor again for two weeks. I thought it'd be best to bring it in today."

James' face grew serious and he nodded, taking the certificate and reading over it quickly before putting it down on his desk. "Doing okay?" he asks.

"Uh, yeah, kind of," Louis mumbles. 

"Louis," James sighs. "I can see that's not true."

This time, Louis can't help the way the tears spill over and he swears under his breath. He hates being this weak -- hates showing it even more. It's one thing to cry in front of his family, but in front of his boss is just completely humiliating. He wishes he could say it was the first time.

"Louis, there's no pressure here, okay? You're not well right now, I can see that, and you're a hard worker, you don't mess about while you're here, so I trust you. If you need time off for what's going on, I understand."

"Thank you," Louis says, wiping his eyes. "Sorry."

"Are you getting any help for this? Seeing anyone regularly or anything?"

"I, um, I see my doctor when things are bad, but I can't get regular help. I see a psychiatrist every three months, but they told me that regular counselling isn't available due to resources and funding in the NHS."

"What a load of bullshit," James mutters.

"Yeah, it's okay though. I'm doing okay."

James smiles kindly at him, but it's clear he doesn't believe a word Louis is saying. Louis doesn't either. "Take as long as you need, okay?" James says. "Your job here is safe."

"Thank you."

He feels more exhausted than he has done in a long time as he walks out the store and heads to the bus stop to catch his ride home. He sits in the bus shelter and closes his eyes for a moment, trying to gather the will to carry on with his day and to put a smile on his face for when he gets home to his mum and the twins.

_I'm okay, _he thinks. _I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay._

*

"Please eat, darling," his mum says at dinner that evening.

He hadn't even realised that he'd totally zoned out, that while his sisters were mostly done with their meals, Louis was still just pushing the spaghetti around his plate.

"Sorry, Mum," Louis says, putting a mouthful of pasta in his mouth and pretending it doesn't taste like ash to him.

He can see the concern etched on Lottie's face and he feels so guilty that he thinks for a moment that he'll bring the food back up. 

It's no secret to Jay and Lottie that when things start getting bad for Louis, his loss of appetite is one of his first symptoms. He'd gone through a period during his last year of secondary school where he just didn't eat at all, until there was nothing on him but skin and bones and Jay had frantically tried to get him help, words like _anorexia_ and _eating disorder_ flying around in the doctor's office, but to no avail. Louis' weight never fell low enough or his blood work abnormal enough for him to officially classify as in need of help from a specialist eating disorder team. It turned out fine, obviously. He went to university and his appetite slowly came back. It's a constant battle, like the bipolar disorder, but he doesn't tend to think about it much. His weight fluctuates still, as does his appetite, but it's never gotten as bad as it had that year, so although his mum and sister still have their concerns, he knows he's okay at least on that front.

"Thank you," Jay says quietly.

Louis eats over half his plateful and then goes upstairs and curls up in bed in the dark, tears cascading down his cheeks, as he thinks that maybe he's making no progress at all, just still stuck in the same cycle of up and down. Maybe it'll always be that way. He certainly hopes not.

*

"Right, Louis," the psychiatrist begins, "I have something I wanted to run by you."

"Okay?"

"Have you ever heard of group therapy?"

Louis nods, fiddling with the rip in the knee of his black skinnies.

"A slot has opened up here on a Thursday evening for a group that is specifically for young people like yourself who are going through a hard time. It's not just for people with bipolar disorder, but I think it would be a great opportunity for you nonetheless. Even just getting to meet other people who are experiencing the same types of struggles you are would be beneficial."

"Yeah, that, uh, that sounds good," Louis says. He knows his mum will be over the moon that he's able to get some kind of therapy, even if it is in a group setting. Recently, she's been talking about paying for Louis to see someone, but Louis knows that money is tight at home and he can't let his mum put herself under even more stress.

"Great," the psychiatrist says, clapping her hands. "So, I can expect you to come this Thursday? It won't be me running the session, but I think you'll get along with Linda very well."

"Yeah, I'll be here."

"Wonderful. Now, tell me about how you're doing with the increased dosage of the sertraline..."

*

There are more cars in the car park at the resource centre than Louis is used to when he arrives on Thursday night. It makes him feel anxious and his hands begin to tremble as he turns off the ignition. He still has a few moments to spare before the 7PM start time, so he leans back against the brick wall of the building and lights a cigarette, inhaling the smoke like it's a the very air he needs to breathe. He closes his eyes for a moment, appreciating the peace and quiet and the cool of the night air, the feel of the smoke burning in his lungs. 

"Can I borrow a light?" someone asks from beside him, startling him.

Louis opens his eyes and turns to see the most beautiful man he's ever seen in his life, like, even more than the models on the telly. "Uh, sure," he stammers, handing over his lighter.

"Thanks," the bloke says. "Here for the group session?"

"Yeah," Louis replies, looking down at his dirty black vans. "First session actually."

"Hm, didn't think I'd seen you around here before. I'm Zayn, by the way."

"Louis."

They smoke in silence for a moment and then head in together after Zayn says it's about to start, Louis' heart beating double time in his chest. There are comfy seats arranged in a circle in the middle of a decently sized room that is covered in posters about mental health and improving wellbeing. Louis takes a seat next to Zayn and lets out a long, slow breath.

"Anxiety?" Zayn asks, a kind smile on his face. "Hey, man. I get it. Got it myself. It's okay though; Linda is fucking awesome and everyone here is decent people."

"Thanks," Louis says, scratching the back of his head, not really sure what else to say.

Luckily, a moment later a small, curvaceous woman with dark brown hair and round glasses perched on her nose walks in and addresses everyone. "It's good to see you all. I hope you're doing well."

Everyone murmurs a greeting in response, as she scans the circle. She frowns when she notices one seat is empty, but then a lanky lad that must be a couple years younger than Louis trips into the room, curls in his face and a blush on his cheeks.

"Ah, Harry," she says with a smile. "I was worried something was wrong."

"Sorry I'm late," he murmurs in a deep voice, clearly embarrassed as he takes his seat opposite Louis. He is... well, breathtaking to put it lightly. Louis quickly looks away.

"Don't worry, Harry. At least you're here now," she says, then turns to the rest of the group. "We have a new face today, so I want everyone to introduce themselves quickly please. I'll start. I'm Linda and I'm the counsellor assigned to this group."

They go around the circle giving their names and even though Louis stutters when introducing himself, he notices with relief that no one seems to notice, or if they do, they simply don't care. Harry is looking at Louis with a strange intensity, but when he notices Louis looking back, he blushes and looks down with a small smile. 

"Okay, so Louis, we're not going to make you talk today since it's your first session. If you just try to listen this evening and get a feel for the group and what we're about. Of course, you can chime in if and when you want, but I please ask that you never interrupt someone who is speaking."

Louis nods.

"Right, so who wants to go first?"

To begin with, things are light. They talk about what they've been up to this week and Louis learns that there's a slight difference in age between them all. Some of them are still in college, some in employment, and some who are currently either seeking work or not doing well enough to be seeking work. Louis feels a sense of ease as one of the girls starts talking about not being able to cope with the stress of her waitressing job, but a sense of anger when she says that the boss is being very difficult about making reasonable adjustments or giving her time off. It seems that everyone else feels similarly and hears Zayn mutter next to him a quiet, "Bullshit."

Time is just coming to a close, having gone unexpectedly quickly for Louis, when Harry raises him hand timidly. After being allowed to speak, with a shaky, soft voice he says, "I ate ice cream this week."

Nobody says anything for a moment and Louis looks around at everyone in confusion. Suddenly, they're all smiling and congratulating Harry and Louis has no idea what's happening or what's so special about eating ice cream. He notices Harry looking at him a little shyly and Louis smiles at him, but is still just as confused.

As they all leave the building, Louis stops to have another smoke before the drive home. He's just about to light up when he notices Harry come out of the building, looking around the car park for someone or something. His eyes fall on Louis and he smiles, striding over to him and leaning against the wall beside him.

"How did you like your first session?" he asks.

"It was good," Louis says, fiddling with his lighter.

Harry smiles and gives a short nod. "Um, about the ice cream thing..."

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Louis assures him, smiling softly.

"It's okay. You're in the group now and I want you to know."

"Okay."

"I'm in recovery from anorexia and ice cream was something I used to really, really love, you know? But then, well, I got ill and it became the food that scared me the most. I hadn't eaten it in five years, until two days ago."

Louis suddenly feels like crying and he doesn't know why. "That's really great, Harry," Louis says, his voice wobbly. "I mean, not about the anorexia, obviously, but that you managed to eat the ice cream."

"Thank you," Harry says, a sparkle in his eye.

"I, uh, they thought I was anorexic a few years back," Louis says, clearing his throat and looking over Harry's shoulder. "My mum was certain of it, you know? But my weight didn't classify as officially underweight, even though I didn't eat, and my blood work was fine, so like, they said that even though all the other symptoms were there I couldn't really get any help? Like, specialist help anyway."

Louis looks back at Harry's face and finds him frowning. He fiddles with his lighter again to stop himself from indulging in the sudden urge to smooth it out with his thumb.

"That's not right," Harry says with a sigh. "Anorexia is a mental disorder, not a physical one, even though it has physical symptoms. You should have been helped."

Louis shrugs, suddenly feeling shy. "I'm better now, so I guess it worked out."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that," Harry says. "I better go now, my mum will be worrying, but, um, see you next week?"

"Yeah, see you next week."

Walking back to his car, Louis feels somehow lighter than he has done in weeks. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, please leave kudos/comments
> 
> You can find me on twitter [here](https://twitter.com/JustLikeTomo)


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